Raven (Orphans 4)

A moment later, Aunt Clara called for me. "Raven? Are you upstairs?" Uncle Reuben heard her call me and appeared in Jennifer's doorway.

"What are you doing up here?" he demanded. "I came up to see Jennifer," I said.

"She's not,well this morning, as you should know," he said. "Just tend to your chores."

"Daddy!" I heard her cry behind him.

"Go on!" he shouted at me.

I started down the stairs, turning to look up when I was almost halfway to the bottom. Jennifer's door was closed.

"What is it, dear?" Aunt Clara said.

I looked at her for a moment and thought about telling her about last night.

"It's nothing, Aunt Clara. I'll be right down." I wasn't ready to stoop to Jennifer's level. Not yet, at least.

Aunt Clara knew something was wrong, but she didn't press me for answers. I suppose she didn't want to know about Jennifer's behavior any more than she wanted to know about Uncle Reuben terrorizing William. Deep in her put-away heart, she couldn't be happy with the person Jennifer was becoming. She had to be aware of her deceitfulness, her laziness, and her meanness. I knew she was upset about the way William shut himself off from everyone, even her, and wanted the best for her son. So what about her daughter? What did she want for her?

And then I would reconsider and stop hating her and start pitying her. I had been here only a short time. I had no idea what sort of horrible things she had endured before I arrived. It was easy to see she was afraid of Uncle Reuben, maybe even more afraid of him than I was. All he had to do was raise his voice, lift his eyebrows, hoist his shoulders, and she would stammer and slink off, pressing her hands to her bosom and lowering her head. There were times when she didn't know I was looking at her, and I saw the deep sadness in her face or even caught her wiping a tear or two from her cheeks. Often, with her work done, she would sit in her rocking chair and rock with her eyes wide open, staring at nothing. She wouldn't even realize I was around.

I never doubted she loved her children, and maybe she once had loved Uncle Reuben, but she was someone who had been drained of her independence, her pride, and her strength, a hollow shadow of her former self who barely resembled the pretty young woman in the old pictures, a young woman with a face full of hope, whose future looked promising and wonderful, who had no reason to think that an

ything but roses and perfumed rain would fall around her.

Some adults, I thought, fall apart, drink, go to drugs, become wild and loose like my mother did when they lose their dreams. Some die a quiet sort of death, one hardly noticed, and live in the echo of other voices, their own real voices and smiles carried away in the wind like ribbons, gone forever, out of sight, visible only for a second or two in the glimmering eyes or soft smiles that come with the memories.

Late in the day, Jennifer emerged with that triumphant sneer on her face. I was dusting furniture after having vacuumed the living room. Uncle Reuben was taking a nap. William was in his room, and Aunt Clara had gone for groceries. Jennifer plopped on the sofa and put her feet up, shoes and all. I stopped and looked at her with disgust.

"I'm so tired," she said. "Lucky we didn't have school today."

"You got me in a lot of trouble," I said. "What stories did you spread around school about me? How could you tell so many filthy lies?"

"Your reputation preceded you," she said with a laugh. "I didn't have to spread any stories?'

"You're really pitiful, Jennifer. You could at least tell your father the truth?'

"Yeah, right. Then I'd be in trouble," she said, and laughed. "You can keep cleaning. I won't be in your way. Just don't make too loud a noise."

"You're disgusting," I said, my anger boiling. "And in more ways than one."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, making her eyes bigger. "You never drank too much, I suppose. In your house, it was probably a daily occurrence."

"For your information, it wasn't, at least for me." I stared at her a moment, debating whether or not I had the courage to say it. Finally, I did. "How could you let Brad do that to you? Don't you have any pride?"

She gazed at me, barely blinking "What are you talking about now, Raven? What sort of lie are you trying to use to get out of trouble?" she asked.

"You know what I'm talking about, and you know it's not a lie," I said firmly.

Her expression didn't change. Then she looked away for a second before turning back to shake her head. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, "and I'm warning you not to say anything that will make Daddy angry."

"He already got angry," I said. I put down the dust rag and undid my pants, lowering them and my panties. I turned to show her my welts.

"Ugh," she said, grimacing.

"He enjoyed doing it to me," I said, closing my pants. "He's a sadist, and he's perverted."

"Stop it!" She jumped off the sofa. "He's my father, and if he had to punish you, it was because you did something wrong. He's really kind, and he cares about me."